Skeletons
by RebelByrdie
Summary: You can't outrun your past forever and when Sara Sidle's catches up with her, her entire life is turned upside down. Very Dark.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters, premises of or anything to do with the television show, CSI. I make no financial gain from the production of this twisted tale. All recognizable material is the property of the creators and the television networks who hold the contract rights there of. All "original" characters are fictional and any similarities to existing or deceased (or other fictional) persons is completely coincidental and no harm is meant.

**Rated M for Mature**:Extremly foul and highly offencive language, scenes of domestic and child abuse.

**Author's Note:** When I wrote _Dirty Secrets_ I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue that story-line or not. I later decided to do a story about Sara and her family, so I connected the two.

While this story can be followed without reading _Dirty Secrets_, I highly suggest reading it anyway.

There are a lot of takes on Sara's past, this is mine.

As before, there will be flash-backs and they are indicated by _italics_.

I would greatly appreciate feedback, okay I love feedback like a kitten loves cat-nip. If something is confusing, or out-right wrong, please let me know, I hope everyone enjoys the story.

Big Thanks go out to everyone who read and reviewed Dirty Secrets. This is for you guys!

Another big thanks goes out to HoneyLynx86, my beta-reader.

Skeletons

The Sequel to

Dirty Secrets A CSI Tale

By RebelByrdie

_Prologue _

The Russo case was closed, legally speaking. The twisted aftermaths of the gut wrenching case were still there, though. Picking through the minefield of broken hearts and scared psyches was going to be a long and delicate process. The Las Vegas branch of the Nevada Department of Children and Family Services did not have the time or the money for the process. Chloe Russo, an eight year old victim of her parent's addictions, was pushed through the system and placed with a set of foster parents who wanted to help but had no idea how to. Luckily for them, Sara Sidle had a few ideas.

Chloe had touched something in Sara; she was a terrified and wounded little girl. Sara hated acknowledging her past and the scars from it. There were cases, though, when her past came rushing back to her. There were victims that pried open the doors of her locked closet and brought the skeletons out. She couldn't turn away from those who needed help so badly.

No one knew about her little habit of checking up on abused children. Just as almost no one knew about her closet full of disturbing skeletons. If Grissom knew he would recommend therapy, or worse, order her to take time off. Catherine would offer her a shoulder to cry on and a kind ear. She didn't need time off and she didn't need to cry, helping the children, Brenda, Chloe and scores more, was enough.

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When the Clarks had called her, she'd pulled a u-turn (she'd been on her way to the labs for a little over-time) and hurried out to their suburban home. Ben and Phoebe Clark were waiting for her at the door. They were a younger couple and they often fostered "special" cases like Chloe. They had good intentions, and big hearts, Sara liked them. Ben sighed, "She's in her room and won't come out. She wouldn't talk to me or Phoebe or her foster brother. We thought about calling her case worker, but decided that you might have a better shot." Phoebe nodded, "We're not pulling you away from work are we, Sara?" She shook her head. Phoebe smiled, "Well, lets see if your magic touch will help us out here." They went through the house and Sara found herself standing in front of a closed door. She knocked and was immediately answered with a loud "GO AWAY!" She sighed, "Chloe, it's Sara." There was a moment of silence and Sara heard the lock disengage.

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The bus hissed to a stop and the tired, sweaty driver opened the creaky door. "Las Vegas." The grumpy, rumpled and slightly smelly passengers began to file off one by one. They collected their bags and moved along into the fading Vegas sunset to gamble, hire cheap hookers or get married in gaudy chapels along The Strip. One passenger got off and squinted, as if even the desert sunset was too bright. Her clothes were cheap, aged and a few sizes too big for the woman. The driver looked at her. "Your bag, ma'am?" She had a small, cheap backpack thrown over her bony shoulder, "This is all I have." He nodded, "So what brings you to Vegas?" A dry chuckle escaped the woman's thin lips, "My daughter."

Author's Note: Ugh. This computer doesn't like to work with 


	2. Chapter I: Life and Death in Las Vegas

_Chapter I_

_Life and Death in Las Vegas_

Catherine Willows worked the scene by herself. She was waiting for back up and was rather annoyed that it had yet to arrive.

The case was a damn mess. A dead wife, a dead boyfriend, a missing husband and a traumatized ten-year old son. The boy, Sinclair Jacobs, was sitting on the couch, silently nursing a Coke.

Detective Curtis was questioning him, but to no avail, the boy just wasn't talking. Catherine felt the urge to go to him and hug him for a good long time. He could no longer see his mother's dead body, it was a room away, but the image was probably burnt into his mind. The poor little boy.

She heard the front door open and looked up. She breathed a sigh of relief. Gil had sent Sara. The brunette was pulling on booties so her boot-prints wouldn't contaminate the scene. She looked up and sent Catherine a small smile. After a few small bumps in the road - okay, more like after years of distrust and borderline hatred - the two women had become good friends.

Sara came over to her, "What's going on?" Catherine sighed, "Come on, I'll show you the primary scene." Sara sent one look over to the little boy in bloody clothes and sighed, "Sure."

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Hours later the three women, two CSIs and one CSI-turned-Detective, stood in the foyer of the home. The scene had been processed, evidence had been bagged, and names had been taken. The missing Mr. Jacobs was their main suspect. Sofia frowned, "From what I can tell, from neighbors and pictures around the house, they were separated and she had custody of their only child, Sinclair." Catherine nodded, "The vic, Lorelei Jacobs, was shot three times, once in the leg, one to the abdomen and once to the chest. We haven't found the gun." Sara looked out the door, and watched the little boy get into the back of the car. The female officers, like Sofia and Officer Helen Albertson had no problem with the boy, he was docile, cooperative and silent. When the social worker, Steve Newman, arrived, though, he had panicked.

She shook her head. "You two go on, take the evidence in, I think I'm going to stay here for a little bit longer." Two sets of blue eyes turned to her, "Why?" Sara frowned, "I'm going to process Sinclair's room." Sofia nodded and Catherine sighed, "You think there will be something in there?" Sara sighed, "I hope not."


	3. Chapter II: Visitor in the Lobby

_Chapter II_

_Visitor in the Lobby_

The single story building that housed the Las Vegas Crime Lab wasn't all that impressive. She had seen bigger and she had seen better. If it was completely up to her, she would have avoided cops all together, but it wasn't. She smirked. She had to get what was rightfully hers. Sara owed her.

Sara, her little girl. Her bratty, good for nothing but stabbing her in the back, little girl. Hadn't she given birth to the pathetic bitch? Fed her? Clothed her? So, the kid had gotten knocked around a little bit, but she survived didn't she?

Then when she'd needed her, Sara had turned her back. The little bitch had testified _against_ her in court. Against her own mother. Now, though, she was back out of jail, the one that Sara had put her in. Now she wanted what was owed to her. Laura Sidle wanted what was owed to her and her daughter would give it to her.

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Nick and Greg were in the lobby, getting Griss's messages. The man never answered the phone and the receptionist called them periodically to get all of the message slips that she filled out for the slightly-off-center entomologist. When the front door opened, they didn't pay it any attention. When the woman walked in, the two men looked up out of habit.

If they hadn't known that Sara was out at a scene, they would have sworn that she was standing right there. At first glance the woman looked like her twin. At second glance, it was obvious that she was older then Sara, an aunt or even her mother, the resemblance was too strong for this not to be a Sidle woman. Nick walked over to her. "Ma'am? Can I help you?

She looked at him with Sara's dark eyes and smiled Sara's gap toothed grin, "Hello, I'm looking for my daughter, maybe you know her, Sara Sidle?" Nick grinned, "I see where Sara gets her good looks." He held out his hand, "I'm Nick Stokes, I work with Sara."

Greg listened to the Texas twanged bullshit that came out of Nick's mouth. The woman might have looked like Sara, but something was off. Where Sara was slender, this woman was bony, where Sara was strong, this woman was as tough as three day old burnt steak, where Sara's brown eyes were filled with compassion and just a little bit of sadness, this woman's eyes were cold and full of lies. He had a bad feeling about Laura Sidle.

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Though she didn't like the idea, she left Sara with a uniform at the scene. The evidence was loaded in the back of her Denali and she drove back and surprisingly enough, Sofia asked for a ride back with her. The blonde detective only shrugged, "My car is in the shop, I rode in with a uniform." They spent the ride in complete silence, which, on the way to the Trace Lab Sofia broke. "So you and Sara are pretty good friends now." Catherine smirked, she'd been wondering how long it would take the detective to come out and ask what she had been wondering about. Catherine smiled, "Yes." They made the turn to walk down the long hall that led to the many labs and offices making up the Crime Lab. "So I was thinking, that perhaps we should all go out sometime, away from work. Get out a little." Catherine smirked, "Are you asking us out, Detective?" The look on Sofia's face was priceless. Catherine supposed that people generally had the same expressions when they swallowed their tongues. "Because I don't like being a third…who the hell is that?"

Startled by the sudden shift in the conversation, Sofia turned her head and looked into the break room. "It looks just like…"

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Warrick leaned against the counter, listening to Sara's mother. "And so Sara jumped off of those cliffs and right into the Pacific. I knew that if she survived I was going to kill her for scaring me that bad." Warrick nodded, but there was a look on his face, one of slight disbelief. He looked up, Catherine and Sofia were at the door, staring in, with the slightly glazed over expression of shock on their faces. He stood up straight, "Catherine, Sofia, this is Laura Sidle, Sara's mom." Sofia nodded and looked the woman over, "Apparently." Catheirne only stared and Warrick would have sworn he saw anger flash through her blue eyes.


	4. Chapter III: Can't Get Any Worse

_**Chapter III**_

_When It Can't Possibly Get Any Worse_

Sara cursed a blue-streak through her clenched teeth. She'd found semen stains on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles bed sheets. The second vic, identified as Joseph Morten, or some other adult male, had raped the ten year old Sinclair. She immediately called Steve; they had to run a kit on the traumatized boy. She shook her head as she bagged the sheets. She picked up the mattress, to check for further stains on the other side. She blew out a sigh when she saw what was hidden there. Not more stains, though perhaps that would have been better. A thirty-eight caliber revolver had been shoved between the mattress and box springs. Sara could smell the reek of fresh gunpowder. She had her murder weapon. She sighed and bagged the gun.

Her shoulders slumped as she put the evidence in the back of her Tahoe. She climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. She didn't really want to run the gun or check the boy's hands for GSR. She had a gut feeling she knew the answers already. A ten year old had killed two people trying to protect himself. Even after years of working scenes and cases, she didn't understand how people could do what they so often did, and she hoped she never did.

The drive back was uneventful and it gave her plenty of time to think about the horrors that Sinclair Jacobs had probably lived through. Of course it didn't take long for Little Sinclair to morph into Little Sara and her thoughts turned inward.

Suffice to say, by the time she arrived back at the Crime Labs, she was not in a great mood. She got the kit out of her car and went through the lobby. She was going to give the sheets to Wendy and the gun to Bobby and then she was going to go steal some of Greg's primo coffee and drown her sorrows in Blue Hawaiian brew.

She was running the specifics of the cases through her head when she heard Nick call her name. She turned around and looked into the Break Room.

Her entire world went on pause. She felt her jaw drop and her hands go numb. For that moment the only sounds were her thundering heart and the heavy thunk of her metal kit hitting the lab's tile floor.

The woman before her was a little older, a little harder, but she had the same look in her brown eyes. The look Sara had learned to fear at a very young age. It was the look Laura Sidle got just before she struck. Sara forced one word through her throat; her voice was low and creaky. "Mother."

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She had looked up when Sara walked in. Catherine knew that something had happened in Sara's young life. Exactly what that something had been, she did not know. What she did know was that Sara had gone in to foster care when she was thirteen. She looked from mother to daughter. The resemblance was uncanny, but in the harsh fluorescent lights of the lab, Laura Sidle looked old and used up. She looked like a feral dog who was about to attack. Sara, on the other hand, wore the pallid color of chalk-board chalk. Her brown eyes were wide and glassy and her voice shook.

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Laura stood up and smiled, "Hello, Sara, surprised to see me?" Sara nodded her head, but she did not speak again. Catherine stepped closer to Sara, she put her hand on the other woman's shoulder and Sofia took her other side, one hand on Sara's slightly trembling shoulder, the other on her holstered gun. Laura continued to speak in her sand-paper rough smoker's rasp. "You thought I was gone for good, didn't you Girl? Well your old Mom's tough, tougher then a lot of bitches and I've got the scars and tats to prove it." She looked around. "Looks like you did pretty good for yourself. Put all them damn brains to work for you. You're some kind of fancy cop now, huh? Of all the fucking things to be, you're a cop." She laughed again; it was a cold and bitter sound. I bet your friends here, the Red Neck, the Nigger, the Punk and those two Dykes over there protecting you would love to hear about me. They would love to hear about out little family. How you lied like a little bitch about me. Wouldn't they love to hear about what happened?"

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Sara shook her head and started to back up, to run away. Memories swam up to the surface of her mind and reminded her of the Hell she had lived in with the woman before her.

_"I'll fucking kill you!"_

"_You think he'll come back for you? Your brother is gone, like dust in the fucking wind. No one cares about you, you little bitch. No one but me. I'm the one that keeps you alive. You're lucky I don't fucking sell you to the perverts who like little girls!"_

"_You want a birthday gift? Here's your birthday gift, I had you, didn't I? I gave birth. I could have went to a clinic and had you sucked and scraped right outta me. That's your birthday gift!"_

All in all, her seventh birthday hadn't been that bad, compared to others.

She felt the warm and reassuring pressure of Catherine and Sofia hands on her, but as soon as Laura uttered those words, they would all know. They would all know.


	5. Chapter IV: Like Yesterday

_Chapter IV_

_I Remember It Like It Was Yesterday_

"Tell them Sara. Tell them all where you come from. From a Druggie Daddy and an Alchie Mommy. Tell them how you testified against me. How you sent me to prison. Tell all your cop friends that your Mother is a murderer."

Silence reigned for a moment. Everyone was too shocked to speak. Then Sara sucked in a deep breath. You killed him when I was thirteen; you stabbed Dad in the chest sixteen times with your favorite knife. You were supposed to be in jail for life."

Laura laughed, "Twenty-five to life, Sara. I was paroled for good behavior. I thought I would look up my darling little girl." The woman's voice took on a lilting, saccharinely sweet tone and Sara flinched. "Aren't you going to ask me how I've been, Sara?"

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Catherine had heard enough. "That's it. Call Security." Another voice spoke up, "That won't be necessary." Sofia stepped forward, "You're trespassing on Government Property. I'll show you to the door or a cell, your choice." Laura laughed, "I'll take the door." She brushed past them and patted Sara's cheek. Sara jerked away, as if scalded. "I'll see you around, Sara." She walked out of the room. Sofia shot a look to Warrick, Nick and Greg, "Make sure she leaves." She didn't have to tell them twice.

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Sara couldn't breathe. Her vision was going gray. Her mother was out of prison. Her mother was in Vegas. They all knew. They all knew. She felt her knees shaking beneath her. Strong arms held her on her feet. "Deep breaths, Sara. Let's get you sat down." She found herself being placed on the couch and being handed a cup of water.

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Catherine kneeled down in front of her. "Sara? Sara, are you okay?" Sofia took her hand, "Sara, Sweetheart, talk to us."

Kneeling, her weight back on her heels, Catherine cursed Laura Sidle. She damned her to the hottest part of Hell. Sara was not responding, she was shattered and Catherine had no idea how to put her back together again. But she had a good idea who might. She stood. "Sara, I'll be right back." She looked at Sofia. "Stay with her." The blonde detective nodded. Catherine knew that the order was moot, wild horses probably couldn't have dragged Sofia away from Sara now.

Catherine all but ran to Grissom's office. Not to get the man. Heaven forbid Gilbert Grissom try to feel his way around this emotional hurricane. No, she threw open his door, scaring all of his creepy-crawlies in the process and hit the light. Gil was at a conference in Topeka, Kansas, but his files were not. It took a few minutes to actually find Sara's personal file in the pit that Grissom considered a filing cabinet, but she found it. She opened the file and flipped to the page she needed, Sara's emergency contact information.

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Sofia wanted to take Sara in her arms and not let go. She wanted to protect her from the world, and especially from the monster that was her mother. She did not, though. She sat there, holding on to Sara's limp hand, not saying a word. She was a coward.

Sofia almost jumped when Sara started speaking again.

"I remember it like it was yesterday. My childhood wasn't exactly happy. I never realized that anything was wrong though. I thought every family had screaming matches and fist fights. It never occurred to me that lying to a doctor in the ER was wrong. If I was bad, they smacked me around. If there was a choice between beer and food, my parents stayed drunk and I went hungry. It was just how things were.

_October 1977_

_Tamales Bay_

_She hadn't meant to make them mad. The smells in the kitchen had made her sick, though. She had thrown up all over the living room carpet. Her tummy and head hurt and she started to cry. She'd run into their bedroom, looking for her Mommy. Her Daddy was aying on the bed and when she came in he started to yell. _

"_LAURA GET THIS GOD DAMN BRAT OUTTA MY HAIR! OH FOR FUCKS SAKE SHE UPCHUCKED FUCKING EVERYWHERE!" _

_Her Mommy came in and Sara ran to her. She threw her arms around the woman's legs, crying. Instead of a hug, she got a hard slap that sent her sprawling to the floor. "STOP CRYING AND CLEAN UP YOUR DAMN MESS!" _

_The bad kitchen smell started to come into the bedroom and her Daddy sat up. "YOU FUCKING WHORE, YOU'RE BURNING OUR SHIT!" They both ran into the kitchen, her mess momentarily forgotten and they screamed for a while. The smell got stinkier and it made her head hurt even worse. Tired now, she went to the hallway and went to her 'Naughty' closet. She pulled on a cleaner shirt and wiped her mouth and hair off and threw the smelly shirt she'd gotten dirty in the corner. She curled up in a ball on the little foam mattress in the corner and slept. _

_Someone, probably her Daddy, had closed the door while she was asleep, because when she woke up it was dark and she couldn't get out. She stayed in the closet for three days before they remembered her that time._

Sara looked up, her eyes shadowed, "That was my life. I was five or so. I think."

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Sofia covered her mouth with her free hand and squeezed Sara's tight with the other.

Author's Note: Sigh There aren't enough words to convey how much I dislike Laura Sidle. It's rare that I truely hate one of my own charecters, even the psychopath killers. I hate writing her, I hate reading what I wrote for her. I hate using language like she uses. Ugh.

On an equally ugh note, the smells that were making Sara sick, were fumes from a kitchen meth lab, which are quite dangerous and even deadly. Gotta love those Sidles.


	6. Chapter V: Reactions

_Chapter V_

_Reactions_

Nick, Greg and Warrick stood in one of the labs. Laura Sidle was gone, but the chaos she'd brought with her was still in the labs. The news was spreading like wildfire already. Everybody knew.

They had all picked up on Sara's reluctance and down right refusal to discuss her past and her family. Now they knew why. Sara's Mother was a monster. They'd seen child abuse and child neglect. They'd cleaned up after killers and rapists. They had worked with Sara through thick and thin. They'd never seen _that _look in her eyes. She'd looked...terrified and helpless, two things that Sara Sidle definitly was not.

Nick shook his head, "No wonder she gets so upset about domestic abuse." Greg nodded, silently. Warrick crossed his arms over his chest. "We can't let that bitch near Sar again, did you see how pale she went? No way she'd getting near our girl again." Both men shook their heads. Greg sighed, "The one time Griss goes out of town…Sara really needs him now."

Catherine stood in the door. "Sara needs all of us." She came in and rubbed her forehead. She answered their questions before they voiced them. "She's really shaken up. I left her with Sofia, though, so she's all right for the time being." She looked at each of them. "What are we going to do?"

Nick sighed, "We've gotta protect Sara." Catherine chuckled, "Don't let her hear you say that, Nicky. She's not helpless, she's the strongest person I know, that any of us knows." All three men nodded, but Greg shrugged his shoulders. "She's strong, but she's not Super Woman. We have to keep that woman away from her. I won't let her hurt Sara anymore." Catherine nodded, "I'm with you there, Greggo, I'm with you there."

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Wendy had heard from Hodges who'd overheard the whole thing. She'd promptly threatened to rip his balls off and feed them to him if he even breathed half a syllable about the incident to anyone else. She respected Sara Sidle and more importantly, she counted her as a good friend. So call her the leader of the Sara Sidle Anti-Defamation League because she wasn't going to let anyone think poorly of a woman who had obviously survived and forged herself in the hot fires of Hell itself.

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Catherine had told herself that she wouldn't let anyone else ever hurt Sara. She wasn't willing to break that promise. Laura Sidle didn't have a prayer. Catherine couldn't imagine treating Lindsey like that. The way Laura had looked at Sara had chilled her to the bone. There had been no love there. There had been hate, and worse, there had been the cagey look of a starving predator, of one who would try anything.

Cases be damned, she went back to the Break Room. Sara was still sitting on the couch and Sofia had both of the woman's hands in her own. The Detective, who wasn't on the best of terms with Catherine, looked up. From the shattered shadows in the other woman's blue eyes, Catherine knew that Sara had told her something. She was privy to a couple of Sara's secrets and knew that there were many dark things eating away at the woman's good soul. She sat on the other side of Sara and smiled. "She's gone, Sara, Honey. You're safe now." Sara turned to her and blinked owlishly.


	7. Chapter VI: Remember When

_Chapter VI_

_Remember When_

Sara sat with Catherine on one side of her, and Sofia on the other. She heard Catherine tell her she was safe. What surprised her the most, though, was that she felt safe. She looked at neither of the other women. Catherine knew about Ethan, but only Grissom knew about her childhood and he only knew about part of it. There was no point in trying to hide it now. "She's always been like that. I can't ever really remember her being nice, except when she was high. Most of the time, though, she wasn't the one I had to worry about." Sara shook her head and felt the pull of her demons, tugging her down into the roaring sea that was her past.

_Tamales Bay, California_

_1982_

_She tiptoed, making her way from her small room to the front door. They, for once, had guests, and she did not want to disturb them. Outside it was balmy and breezy and Sara wanted to get in her morning swim before school. It was 5 AM and the sky was lightening to a soft pearl gray. _

_Tamales Bay was a coastal tourist town for the most part. People came for the views from the Pacific Coast Highway and the Nature Reserve. It was a long-standing tradition that boys had to swim the mile across and back the narrow bay. Like losing your virginity or getting your driver's license it was an important part of becoming a man. Sara had made that swim in the early hours of her eighth birthday. Much like her life, there was no lifeguard or promises of safety. It had been her versus the Bay and she had won. Now she liked to start every morning with the mile long swim. It was a good way to erase the recent memories of last night's screaming and hitting. _

_Her muscles protested as she took her first few strokes. The bag of oranges wrapped in a towel was her Dad's weapon of choice. It hurt but never left visible bruises. Her deep breaths sent sharp little pains through her chest from where a hard kick to the ribs had cracked something a few weeks ago. It was all a part of life, though, and she would get through it._

_An hour later, she was back at home, getting ready for school and making pancakes for the guests that would expect breakfast from a bed and breakfast. She facetiously cleaned up the empty bottles and full ashtrays. She didn't know why she bothered. Her parent's B&B never attracted clients that overly cared about cleanliness. Their main concerns were booze, drugs and sex, though not always in that specific order. She stacked the pancakes on a plate and set the syrup out, along with the other breakfast offerings and then she grabbed her worn and heavy bag and tried to leave. _

_She didn't make it far. Her father was coming down off of something. His drug of choice at the moment was cocaine, but that meant little. He was sitting out on the front porch smoking what was probably a joint. "He-ey there, Girlie, where you off to?" Keeping a distance between them, she shrugged. "School. Breakfast is laid out in the kitchen if you want it." She could tell by looking at his blood-shot, half-mast eyes that he was in a dangerous mood. She began to ease back away from him, going slowly, the same way someone would back away from a rabid dog. He noticed. "Why you backing up, Girlie?" Sara froze. "I've just got to get to school, that's all." The man snorted, "School. What the hell good is school gonna do you? All a woman needs to know how to do is lay on her back and even you can't mess that up." Sara knew better to argue, but she started to back up again, anyway. "I still gotta go, Daddy." She instantly regretted her words. Tom Sidle jumped to his feet with an almost preternatural speed. "You sassing me, Girl?" She shook her head frantically, "No. No! I was just saying that I have to" The slap came quick and it came hard. The powerful backhand snapped her face around and knocked her backwards. The back of her head connected with one of the porch's support beams and for a moment, Sara saw stars. Her father grabbed her by the shirt collar and dragged her close. "The only thing you HAVE to do is what I say, and I say you're gonna be here today, cleaning the guest rooms. Do you understand me?" As one of his hands was curled into a hard fist, she did. "Yes Daddy. Yes Sir." He threw her back towards the door, and she hit the screen hard, the tiny metal threads cut into her skin, but she didn't cry out, she just opened the door and went inside._

Sara blinked and shivered a bit. "He was a big man, my father. Six foot five, over two hundred pounds. In our house he was God."

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Catherine saw red and was suddenly glad the man was dead, because had he been alive, she would have tracked him down and throttled him. Sara had been a child, a little girl. She could see her in her mind's eye. Gangly and tanned with big brown doe eyes and bruised up legs. The very idea of a two hundred pound man striking her was terrifying. She looked over at Sofia for a moment, wanting to gauge the other woman's reaction. The blonde detective's blue eyes were steel hard and her mouth was set in a hard line.

Catherine sighed, "How about I take you home, Sara?" The brunette, predictably, shook her head. "No. I need to work."

Author's Note: Well, there you go. The further along in this story I go, the more I wish I'd never started it, but I had to, so here we are. It will get much darker before the dawn, and even the dawn will be tainted. I'm just a fluffy, sappy, happiness all around kind of girl, or didn't you notice that?


	8. Chapter VII: A Mother's Love

_Chapter VII_

_A Mother's Love_

Night turned to dawn and the weary workers and participants of Vegas's wild nightlife stumbled out of the clubs and bars to sleep it off.

Sara Sidle stared at the file spread out over the illuminated lay out table. Her hands were supporting her head and she blew out a sigh. A mother's love, indeed. The rape-kit had come back on Sinclair Jacobs. The doctor's report proved that her worst suspicions were true. There was evidence of repeated sexual molestation; a year's worth of tears and scaring. Doc's report had come back on the mother, substantial amounts of Crack and Amphetamines had been found in her system. Sara had seen it before; she'd been selling her son for drug money.

It was the kind of case that was going to make Catherine blanch and then become an unholy terror. For Sara, it was just a sad fact. All mothers did not have unconditional love for their offspring and all child hoods weren't fairy tales and ballet recitals.

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Laura Sidle decided that Las Vegas was over-rated. The morning light hurt her bleary eyes as she left the bar. The liquor had been watered down and the dime bag she'd scored had been cut down and weakened. She'd scored better shit in jail. She'd been out for just over three days and her money was already dwindling. That was okay since she had Sara and her daughter would take care of her if she knew what was best for her. Sara had always known what was best for her. The little bitch had always looked out for herself pretty damn well.

She had a fancy college degree and a fancy job. She was living such a snooty life. She'd forgotten where she'd come from. She could put on airs with all of her cop friends all she wanted, but at the end of the day, she was still a Sidle. It was time the girl remembered just what that meant.

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Catherine called to check in on Lindsey. The girl was asleep, of course. It was two in the morning. She called anyway, though. Just to make sure that her mother had checked up on her before going to bed. Lindsey wasn't that much older now than Sara had been then. She couldn't imagine hurting Lindsey, couldn't fathom not doing everything in her power to protect her daughter. In short, she couldn't imagine being Laura Sidle.

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A picture hung from the rearview mirror, it swayed with the subtle movements of the car as it sped down the Interstate. A smiling brunette in a College cap and gown, a Magna Cum Laude. On the reverse side of the twirling frame was the same young brunette with a surfboard tucked under her arm.

There was a cup of strong coffee, laced with enough sugar to kill an elephant, in the cup holder, a pile of old files in the passenger seat and a Joan Jett song pouring out of the radio.

The driver sang along almost mindlessly as she watched the odometer tick the miles away. It wasn't really all that long of a drive, but at the moment, it felt like she'd never get to Las Vegas. It felt like she'd never see Sara again.


	9. Chapter VIII: Off The Deep End

_Chapter VIII_ _Off the Deep End_

She knew Sara would work herself until she collapsed. It was how she coped with things. It wasn't healthy and Catherine would not let her do it, not this time. She waited until their shift was over and then she grabbed Sara by the arm. The woman fought her at first, and in the end she had to all but physically drag her away.

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The diner was a familiar one, it was a comfortable place. They often came here to eat, and to talk. When Catherine sat her down in a booth and settled down across form her, Sara knew that the woman wanted to talk and that she would not take no as an answer. Sara sighed, she'd known this was coming. Catherine was like a rabid bull-dog when she got an idea in her head. She just would not let it go.

They placed their orders and Sara dumped her usual amount of sugar into her coffee. "So…you've met my mother. Grissom knows a little bit about her. I told him…after the Svetlana Melton case. Why I go off the deep end." She saw the flinch of guilt skate across Catherine's face, but said nothing. "It started out like every other night. I hardly even realized anything was really wrong…I was just trying to stay out of the way.

_Tamales Bay, California_

_1984_

_They hadn't had a guest in two solid months. That meant that money was tighter then usual. Not that money was ever abundant, but the fridge was devoid of beer, the liquor cabinet was empty and Thomas Sidle had smoked the last of his weed two nights before. He was jonesing and cheap cigarettes were just not cutting it tonight. His wife was no better off. It had been a little over thirty hours since her last drink and she was starting to get the shakes of a long time alcoholic. The tension was thick and the mood dark. Sara made herself scarce. She knew very well that her father had a piss-poor temper when he was coming down and didn't want to provoke it. _

_She stayed on the staircase, out of his eye line, but still in the room. She knew that hiding away in her room was not an option. If he yelled for her and she wasn't immediately there, there would be Hell to pay. So she studiously re-read her essay on Shakespeare's_ Julius Caesar_. It wasn't her homework, but the football player she was doing it for would gladly give her ten dollars for it the next morning. It wasn't exactly honest, but she needed money and the idiots that made up the football and cheer squads at the High School needed to graduate. _

_The trouble started when dinner was served. Dinner, of course, was a bologna sandwich. Her father hated bologna and if her mother had been paying attention, she'd have remembered that little tidbit. Sure enough, Tom threw the sandwich at his retreating wife's back. "DAMNIT WOMAN! FUCKING BOLOGNA! I FUCKING HATE SHITTY BOLOGNA!" Laura whirled around. "Well, I'm very sorry, Your Majesty, but all we have is that shitty bologna that YOU THREW ON THE FLOOR!" She watched as her father bolted up. "WELL WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO ALL THAT FOOD I BOUGHT JUST LAST FUCKING WEEK!"_

_Sara remained silent and still, but she knew what had happened. They hadn't bought groceries a week ago, they'd bought them a month and a half ago. The only reason they had bologna and bread at all was because she had bought them._

_She watched her mother try to placate her father. It was always the same, tired old move. She offered sex and hoped it calmed him down. It usually worked. Tom Sidle liked his beer cold and his women easy. This time, however, it didn't work. All the lewd suggestion did was earn Laura a rough backhand slap to the face. "All I want is a damn meal! All you ever do is smoke my shit and slut around. Don't think I don't know about HIM, Laura!" _

_Sara winced, it was on now. Her mother's phantom lover, or her father's very real mistresses were always at the center of their worst fights. She glanced down at the door and wondered if she could make it out of the house without them noticing. As they were involved in their shouting match, she figured she could. Besides, they were just getting warmed up._

_She tucked the papers under her arm and eased down the stairs, avoiding the ones that squeaked. She was at the door, and easing the screen door open to slip out when her father saw her._

_"GIRL!" _

_She jerked around just in time to see a rough hand grabbing at her shoulder._

Sara swirled her coffee around in the mug. "It was almost normal, Cath; the screaming and shouting. It never even occurred to me that something was really wrong. It was how I thought everyone lived. There was real life and then there was make-believe. _The Brady Bunch_ was just as fantastic and unrealistic to me as _Star Trek_.

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Catherine felt low, lower then low. She remembered Sara's words about the Svetlanna Melton case.

_"There is no evidence of abuse!"_

_"Not that we can see, Catherine, not that we can see."_

Sara had that same look in her eyes then as she did now. The hopeless heartbreak of someone who had gone through Hell and lived to tell the tale. Catherine had ignored that look for so long. She'd written it off, just as everyone else had, as empathy. God she had been so wrong, and the worst part was, the story wasn't even over yet, not by a long shot.


	10. Chapter IX: Tell Me

_Chapter IX_

_Tell Me_

Sara closed her eyes and mentally counted to ten. Grissom had treated her like a China Doll after he'd told her. Like she was some fragile, helpless victim. She didn't want Catherine to think less of her. It had taken so long to earn her respect in the first place. She sighed and looked up from the sprout and mushroom omelet she'd been picking at. Catherine gazed right back at her. Her sapphire blue eyes were awash in tears. Sara looked for pity, but could not find it. She saw sorrow and guilt, but no pity. Catherine reached out for her and covered her own slightly trembling hand with her slim, perfectly manicured one. "Tell me."

Sara looked one more time into Catherine's eyes and drew strength from the other woman's warm and steady gaze.

_She winced as his hand gripped her thin shoulder hard enough to leave bruises. "Just where the hell do you think you're going! SLUTTING AROUND LIKE YOUR WHORE MOTHER!" Before she could even get the 'No' out, he'd hit her. It was a hard closed fist punch to the side of her head. "Fucking whores!" His words rang and echoed crazily in Sara's fuzzy head. He hit her again and this time she heard the delicate crunch of cartilage and bone when his meaty fist hit her face. He'd broken her nose. She could feel the tears well up behind her eyes and they spilled out and flowed down her cheeks, but she did not cry out. Her tears only made him madder. "You're CRYING? I'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT!" She felt herself being moved, carried by her one arm back into the main part of the living room. He threw her to the hard wood floor and she winced at the impact of her bare knees and elbows on the wood._

_She heard the unmistakable rasp of worn leather on denim and winced, feeling more tears coming. There would be no bag of oranges for her tonight. Tonight he was coming at her with his belt. The first hit fell right between her shoulder blades and her entire body arched away from the pain. She still did not scream. The hits kept coming, and she eventually did scream, which only made things worse. After what seemed like forever, they stopped and he picked her up by the arm again. Her feet dangled off the floor. Tom Sidle was a huge and strong man, and her bleeding back and sides were testament to his "manly strength" He glared at her; his beady, bloodshot brown eyes meeting her glazed-over ones. "Well?" She wanted to say sorry, but only coughed. "Useless bitch, just like your worthless whore of a mother." He threw her down again, hard. She landed on the coffee table, a cheap particle board: wood-glued flea-market buy. The old and warped table legs collapsed under her sudden weight and on the way down, her arm got pinned underneath her and when she and the table finally hit the floor, she felt a sharp pain shoot through her wrist. _

_With Sara down, Tom turned back to his wife, who was cowering in the corner of the room, her back against the wall. "Now, Tommy, you showed that girl good. Let's just go to bed." He shook his head and spat on the floor. "I don't think so, Bitch."_


	11. Chapter X: Blood

_Chapter X_

_Blood _

_Laura saw the look in his eye and she darted to the kitchen. He followed her, almost giddy with the anticipation of more violence._

_Sara wasn't sure what happened in the kitchen. Hell, she wasn't sure what was happening two feet away from her. She hurt all over, especially her head, back and arm, and only wanted to go to sleep. The screaming wouldn't let her though. She looked back up when she heard foot steps. _

_"GOD DAMNIT LAURA, PUT THE FUCKING PIG-STICKER DOWN!" Through the red haze of pain, Sara saw her mother with the big knife in her hand. That, in itself, was not unusual. She had often brandished the big black and silver knife during fights. Usually, though, it had been at Sara, never at her Dad. Sara had a scar on her upper arm where her Mother had "knicked" her once, that had been a few Thanksgivings ago, if she recalled correctly. Her father was backing up, stumbling over his own feet, trying to get away from the knife. Vaguely she recalled her father telling her, when he was in one of his good moods, to never bring brass knuckles to a knife fight. _

_He made one last, desperate grab for the knife, belting her mother hard in the chest as he went. That was a mistake. Laura let out a guttural scream and lunged at him. Sara watched helplessly as the knife went into her father's chest the first time, then again and again. He fell to the ground and his dingy white tank-top was suddenly crimson red. Laura fell to her knees and straddled him, stabbing him again and again. They were closer to Sara now. The blood spatter and cast off, words she wouldn't know or even understand until years later, covered everything - the floor, the walls, her mother - and hot red blood, her Daddy's blood, splashed on to her, covering her with sticky death._

_Her Father lay there, his head lolled back and for a moment, his eyes and hers met. One of his arms, thick with muscle reached for her, as if begging for help. Sara started to scream and scooted back on the floor, her brown eyes wide and terrified._

_She kept screaming even after Laura stopped stabbing, even after Tom stopped breathing. It took her mother to smack her and threaten her with the bloody knife that she'd just pulled out of her Father's chest to make her stop screaming._

_"CLEAN THIS SHIT UP! I WANT ALL THIS CLEANED THE HELL UP!"_

_Sara nodded frantically, and looked around for a rag to clean up the huge pool of blood around her father's body._

Sara ran her hands through her hair. "I don't know who called the police. I guess someone heard me or something. There was this smell, iron and copper, in the air…and then the lights, blue, white and red. The detective who found me…I couldn't let go of his hand. The paramedics had to sedate me, because I started fighting. I thought they were going to hurt me. Daddy always said the Cops would kill me." She shuddered, and wrapped her arms around herself.

Author's Note: Obviously, that's based off of _Nesting Dolls,_ though most is from my own slightly-off-center imagination. Any thoughts or reviews...or flying furniture coming my way? (I hope said furniture isn't on fire, I hate fire.)


	12. Chapter XI: Hurt and Comfort

_Chapter XI_

_Hurt and Comfort_

The empty condolences and senseless phrases of comfort that she become so used to giving others seemed pointless. This was Sara. In her own words, Sara-Off-The-Deep-End-Sidle. Over the years, since Sara had come to Vegas, Catherine had thrown many acid-laced, razor-honed barbs at the woman across from her. She'd thought she'd had Sara's number. She had been Grissom's pet. A know-it-all, naive busybody who'd been out for her job. The woman sitting across from her was none of those things. Sara Sidle, the real Sara, was brilliant, compassionate, and stronger then anyone she'd ever known. She was also hurt, deeply and forever scared by the bitch that had been nothing more than a genetic donor and a murderer. Laura Sidle didn't deserve the title "mother". From what Catherine had just heard, she was a walking advertisement for the death penalty.

She looked at Sara. She'd seen the woman angry; shove-a-suspect-on-a-scene angry. She'd seen her shocked and scared, when they'd found out about her centerfold. She'd even seen Sara sad, when That-Bastard-Hank had pulled his crap with her. This, though, this was something else all together. It wasn't Sara Sidle, CSI sitting across the booth from her. It was a thirteen-year-old victim with no one to hold on to. Though she knew the grown woman would sneer and pull away, Catherine left her side of the booth and moved to Sara's. She looped her arm around Sara's too-stiff shoulders and, though Sara barely acknowledged her, Catherine knew that she was grateful. She gently tugged at the woman, pulling her into a hug. She laid her head against Sara's. "Oh, Sweetie, I don't know what to say...but I'm not letting you go home alone today." She could actually feel the protest brewing in Sara's inhaled breath. "No arguments, Sara. You're coming home with me. Besides, Lindsey could use a Saturday tutor."

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She didn't turn away. She wasn't disgusted or repulsed; she didn't give her _the look._ Catherine had hugged her close and offered, no demanded, that she come home with her. Home, to Catherine's home with Catherine's Lindsey. She wasn't hiding her daughter away, or gently letting Sara down with a white lie.

Sara remembered all too well, what had happened after that night. The story of the Sidle Homicide had spread through the small town like a wild fire. She had gone from being 'That Girl from the Trashy Sidle Family' to 'The Girl Whose Mother Stabbed Her Father to Death'. It spread around school, how she was the daughter of a murderer. Was there a murder gene? She still didn't know. What she did know was that she'd instantly become an Untouchable. No one spoke to her unless it was to remind her of _that night_; to taunt her. Even the teachers backed away. They'd watched her like a hawk, waiting for her to snap. Parents had carefully eased their young children around her, giving her a wide bearth. Foster Parents didn't really want her in their homes; they were afraid of her. No one said it, but she knew. She could see it in their eyes. She could hear their whispers, even though they thought she could not. As if a single raised hand that halfway covered their flapping mouths could shield her from their gossip. She'd never been right in the head, they said. Why, hadn't her brother been sent off to juvie? A bad apple doesn't fall far from the tree. That's what she had been considered in the small and conservative seaside hamlet of Tamales Bay - the bad apple.

For a long, long time, that's what she had believed she was. She had worried that she was a murderess in waiting. She had feared the poison that was in her DNA. The vicious violence that had to run in her blood. She had learned to clamp down tight on her temper, on all of her feelings. She couldn't let herself become Laura.

She would never be her parents, she'd kill herself first.

Catherine was not the first to offer her a kind hand, but she had been the last she'd expected to do so, which made it all the more confusing…and more healing.


	13. Chapter XII: Welcome to Vegas

_Chapter XII_

_Welcome To Vegas_

The Las Vegas Crime Lab was one of the best in the country. Of course, any lab that had Sara on the payroll was better off than most, though she was probably being biased. It was too early for the Graveyard shift to be in, but if she knew Sara, and she did, that probably wouldn't make a difference.

She made her way into the lobby and was headed to reception. The labs down the hall looked like the ones in San Francisco. There were microscopes and computers and other CSI…things. She didn't pretend to understand what the Crims did, she was just glad they did it. She eyed the receptionist and waited while assorted Lab Techs and what she supposed were CSIs and Detectives were taken care of. When she got to the desk, she put on a half-smile. "I'm here to see Sara Sidle, is she in?" The receptionist was halfway through her 'No' when a blonde whirled around on her.

"Sara's not here and she's not taking visitors at the moment. She's had enough surprises for a while."

0000000

Fury raced through Sofia like fire in her blood. Was this heartbreak for Sara? Another fucked up part of her past coming back to give her more grief? Not today, not when she was here to stop it.

The woman didn't look anything like Laura Sidle, though that meant nothing. She was about Catherine's height and she had flame red hair that was modestly streaked with gray.

The woman scowled, "You've obviously met Laura." Sofia nodded, "Unfortunately." Of all the things she would have expected, the woman's reaction was not one of them. "Is Sara okay?"

Sofia crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her hip against the desk, making sure her service weapon was in full view. "She's fine, not that it's any of your business." The woman's face turned red. "You don't know what the hell you are talking about." Sofia shrugged, "You can attempt to go over my head, though Grissom is in Kansas. If you start walking now…" The thus-far-unidentified woman tilted her head to the side. "You're not Catherine…you must be Sofia, Detective Curtis."

Sofia blinked, but was saved from what could have been a highly humiliating 'huh' by another voice from the hallway.

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"Captain Burgundy?" Both she and the redhead turned. Wendy Simms, DNA Tech, stood there, grinning. "It _is_ you. What my replacement is so bad you came all the way to Vegas to get me back?"

For her part, Sofia looked from Wendy, to Captain Burgundy and back again. Wendy caught on and grinned, "Oh, sorry, Sofia. This is Captain Janet Burgundy, she runs the Frisco Special Victims Unit. Cap, this is Detective Sofia Curtis, she does Homicide here in Vegas."

Janet grinned, "Hello Wendy, it's good to see you again. Not to bruise your ego, but I'm here for Sara." A frown, and a deep look of concentration crossed the brunette's face and then she made the connection. "Whoa. _Your_ Sara is Sara Sidle? Freaky."

Wendy was all smiles, and Detective Curtis was still looking somewhere between shocked and suspicious. She looked over both women with a cool and intelligent gaze. Wendy was a good friend, and a genius with DNA. The Detective, though, was a new element. She'd heard more then a few things about the blonde from Sara. Sara. That's why she was here. These two were just…distractions. "Yes, that would be Sara." She motioned with her hand, "About this tall, brown hair, any of this ringing a bell? I would love to know where she is. She's not answering her cell phone."

Sofia blinked again, the woman was wearing what she had long considered to be 'The Sara Sidle Smirk' Now that she had calmed down, mostly, she looked at her. Well, suffice to say, if she hadn't just met Laura Sidle, she would have wondered if this could have been Sara's mother. They moved in the same way, with mindless grace. Their facial expressions, from smirk to eyebrow quirk, were very much the same, and then there was the stance. The 'I don't take crap from anyone' posture with arms over chest and a glare that could melt steel. She wasn't exactly sure how the woman knew Sara, but they definitely knew each other.

Author's Note: A few people, I can't remember precisly who, nor am I inclined to look, mentioned that a story with Detective Janet Burgundy would be interesting. So here it is. She's a foil charecter to Laura, the Angel on Sara's shoulder, if you will.


	14. Chapter XIII: Hey Stranger

_Chapter XIII_

_Hey Stranger_

An irritated Catherine answered her ringing cell phone with a gruff "What?" She'd fallen asleep on the couch after Sara and Lindsey had settled down to dividing their time between doing Algebra, something she was hopeless at, and watching music videos, something that bored her to death. The voice on the other end of the line was enough to get her aggravated. Sofia had worked nightshift, she knew the sleep pattern. Was it too much to ask for, a little sleep? "This better be good, Curtis, I was having a very nice dream that involved myself, Brad Pitt and nothing but sweat between us." That was far from the truth, but the little moment of silence, where she knew Sofia was just a little bit uncomfortable made the lie worth it.

"That was too-much-information, Willows, but that's beside the point. I have a Janet Burgundy here, she says that you called her." That made Catherine sit up. "She's here? In Vegas?" She'd been expecting the woman to call Sara, or something, not come all the way from San Francisco. "Yes, she's here and she'd like to see Sara. So where did you stash her?" Catherine pushed the light blanket off of her and swung her feet around and placed them on the floor. She's here, with me." There was a moment of silence. "Oh get your mind out of the gutter, Curtis. She's off messing around with Lindsey somewhere." Sofia's voice came back, slightly harder. Was it jealousy Catherine heard? "Fine. Look, Janet wants to see Sara…and I'm inclined to allow it." A smile spread over Catherine's face. "You'll allow it? My, my, detective, aren't we protective?" She could almost see the other woman scowl. "Listen, Willows, I'm bringing her over there." Catherine stood and stretched and started to look around, "Fine, fine, do you know where I live?" There was a gruff, "I'll find it." Then there was only a dial tone. She closed the cell phone and heard Lindsey laughing.

Last night had been…trying, at best, but today was looking up. She wandered into the kitchen and was immediately greeted with the vision of Sara covered in flour. She looked up and blushed. "Oh…hey Catherine." The shadows were still there, deep and dark in her eyes, but there was also a smile on her face. Lindsey snickered, "Busted." Catherine looked at the teenager. She too wore a smile, it was a novel and very appreciated thing. "So what did I stumble on to?" Sara blushed harder and Lindsey grinned. "Sara was trying to make dinner, but things got a little bit…messy." Catherine cocked one fair eyebrow, "I noticed."

By the time they got the kitchen cleaned up, and the late-lunch eaten, Catherine heard a car pull into the drive. She saw Sara stiffen and her eyes, that had been alight with humor only a moment before, went cold and unreadable.

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She was embarrassed. It was amusing. There was really nothing to be embarrassed about. She had just stood up for Sara. That alone got Sofia Curtis into her good graces. Of course, there was still the matter of Laura to deal with. The woman should have never been let out of prison, not after everything she'd done to Sara.

_San Francisco, California_

_1988_

_She laid the file on her desk and wiped a tear from her eye. 'Barely Legal' and Ethan Rogers were only an epilogue to what had been a hellish early life for Sara Sidle. _

_Working in the SFPD's Special Victims Unit had put her in contact with many broken children. The abused, the needy, but never had a single child grabbed at her like Sara did. Across from her, her partner sighed, "You okay, Jan?" She shook her head and handed him the thick file. "Christ, Harv, how much can one kid take?" She watched him leaf through the file. _

_Alexander Harvey was a big man, one Sara had kept her distance from, and now she understood why. He was about the same size Thomas Sidle had been. Harv was, though, the polar opposite of Sara's father. He was a gentle giant with sandy blonde hair and a warm heart. They had worked together for four years - two in uniform, two in plain clothes - and he was like the brother she'd never had._

_She pushed a strand of her unruly red hair back and regarded him. His face, complete with a two-day-old stubble was hard and fixed in a furious glare at the pages before him. She knew it wasn't the actual crimes that got to him, though they'd seen far too much of that sort of thing. It was the handling after Sara had been absorbed into the system. She'd been lost... no, she had been shunned. It didn't matter now; she was in their city now and here and she wouldn't be lost. Janet wouldn't allow it._

_Harv looked up, "Well?" She knew that he knew her too well. "I'm thinking of having my 'Foster Parent' certification pushed through." She saw it, instantly, on his face. "Now Janet, I know you feel for this kid, I do too, but this isn't the time to get…attached." She threw a glare at him. "When will it be? She's almost an adult now, and all she knows is violence and grief. She could bounce from placement to placement until she turns eighteen and then she's out on her ass. When would be the correct time to get attached?"_

_He sighed, "It won't be easy." Janet grinned, "It never is."_

_She called in favors and cut corners, but within two weeks she was picking Sara up from the group home that she'd been placed in. She'd gone to see Sara several times since everything had went down. The ball was in motion and the ADA and Feds were pushing the trials through. Washington was finally taking notice, working to stop kiddie-porn. She'd heard that a new bill would be pushed through Congress within the next few years, targeting the new cyber land of porn. All of that, though, was inconsequential at the moment. Right now, she had a scared sixteen year old to help. She'd greeted Sara, who only had a small bag of possessions; most of them school books, at the door. "Hey Stranger." They got to her apartment building and Sara looked it up and down, warily. "Isn't the social worker supposed to deliver me to the next placement?" Janet maneuvered the car into the tiny Resident's Parking Lot and cut the engine. "Usually, but they prefer to have the new guardian take them home, you know that." Sara nodded and her eyes darted around. "So where are they?" Janet smiled, "Well, she's a cop, so she won't be around 24-7, but she expects you'll be all right by yourself from time to time." She watched the realization settle over the girl's face. "You?" Janet nodded, "Me." For the first time since they'd met, she saw Sara Sidle smile._

The house was suburban and nicely kept. Janet very much wanted to meet this Catherine Willows. It was a strange leap, from Sara's archrival, to her best friend in only a few weeks. More importantly, though, she wanted to see Sara. The door opened and Janet eyed it. The woman in the doorway was about her size, strawberry blonde hair. This was Catherine, so where was Sara?

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Catherine wasn't sure what she had expected; Sara hadn't ever showed her a picture. The woman was older than herself, but no more then fifty, and she had fire red hair that only had small touches of gray here and there. Her gray eyes flashed as she looked around. She had Sara's walk, Catherine noted, and this was where Sara had probably gotten her glare from as well. She came up to the porch and for a moment, they squared off. "You must be Catherine." Catherine nodded her head, "Captain Burgundy." The woman nodded, "Janet, please. Now, where's my girl?" Her words brought a smile to Catherine's face. "She's in the den."

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She was full and drowsy, but she didn't want to sleep. She knew that the moment she gave in to Morpheus's pull, the nightmares would come. Oh, they would come: vivid bloody nightmares of her mother and her father. Of his death and her return. At the moment, she and Lindsey were caught up in a video game marathon. A quirky little game where the controller was a guitar that you had to hit the correct notes on to 'sort of' play a song on the screen. She was hopeless at it, but it was fun and distracting. Catherine had been watching, and Sara had a sneaking suspicion she'd been taking pictures with her camera-phone when a car pulled up. Sara felt her blood run cold. Then the most wonderful sound she'd heard in a long time met her ears.

"Hello, Stranger." She whipped around and rubbed her eyes, afraid that she was hallucinating. She was not. Standing there, in the doorway to the den was Janet Burgundy. "Janet!"


	15. Chapter XIV: Memories

_Chapter XIV_

_Memories_

She was too thin, and she looked tired. It was, however, her Sara. Sara made it across the room in a few seconds and Janet happily took her into her arms and hugged her tightly. "Sara."

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A thousand memories rushed through Sara's mind.

_Summer 1989_

_Malibu, California_

_She had always swum. She'd spent much of her childhood in the Pacific, but the waxed wood of the board attached to her ankle was a different thing entirely. Across from her, Janet grinned. "Come on, Sara, you can't be a true Californian without having ever surfed." Sara mumbled something under her breath that earned a playful splash of water. "Just remember what I told you."_

_Early Fall 1990_

_San Fran_

_"Just open the envelope, Sara." It sat between them, on the kitchen table. Neither of them were "kitchen people" so they both had cold cereal and coffee that was heavy on the sugar to hide the scorched taste of over-done Folgers. Sara squirmed in her seat. "What if they didn't accept me?" Janet rolled her eyes. "I am not going through this with you again. Just open the envelope before I do." Sara reached out for it, her hands shaking. She ripped through the seal and pulled out a sheaf of papers. She smiled, "They accepted me…they're giving me a…a…full ride scholarship." She looked across at Janet, "I'm going to Harvard." Janet took a sip of her coffee, "Of course you are. Now all we have to do is go down to the car-lot and pick you out something to drive all the way to Boston." Sara almost dropped her acceptance letter into her cereal. "Me? A car?" Janet chuckled, "Yes, you. Are there any other College Freshman living here? Because if there are, that would explain all of my missing socks." Sara blinked, "But I…" Janet grinned, "Think of it as a Graduation, Congratulations and a Birthday gift all rolled into one big package."_

_Fall 1994_

_Harvard University_

_Cambridge, Massachusetts_

_"Sara Sidle, Magna Cum Laude" She walked across the stage and shook the Dean's hand. She looked out to the crowd and there, front and center, was Janet, just like she had promised. There was a camera in her hands and Sara smiled just in time for the blinding flash._

_1998_

_San Francisco, California_

_She handed her the ID. Janet read over it. "Sara Sidle, CSI I." The woman smiled, "I'm proud of you, kid." She grinned at the picture ID again, "Crappy photo of you, but they all are." She pulled her into an impromptu hug. "This calls for a celebration. My girl made CSI."_

She pulled out of the hug. "You're here…how?" Janet only smiled, "I have my ways." Sara glared at Catherine, who was busy trying not to look guilty. "So Catherine called you, huh?" Janet nodded, "That she did. Now, lets sit down and you can tell me all about it." Sara nodded, and with Janet's arm over her shoulder, she felt ready to talk.

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Sofia watched the two of them. They fit well together…like mother and daughter. They didn't talk about Laura, or Sara's past, at first. First they caught up, like families did when they got together. When they were together, their likenesses were unmistakable. A hand gesture here, a phrase there; they were close.

"So how is Harv?" Janet grinned, "He's teaching at the Academy. He loves running cadets around until they puke." Sara grinned, "He would, wouldn't he?" Sara looked up, her brown eyes dancing with humor. "Harv was Janet's partner. He's this huge guy, looks like a wall, but he's really a marshmallow when it comes down to it." Janet grinned, "Yes, well, I'm more interested in meeting all these people I've heard wild stories about. Nick, Greg and all the rest of them. Don't think you can hide me away, Sara. I've got embarrassing stories and pictures to go along with them." Sara winced, "Aaw, Janet!" The older woman grinned, "What? You don't want them to see your Garage Band days? Or your off-Broadway debut? Or worse, I can show them pictures of you after you wrecked that car I bought you." Sara sighed, "You are never going to let that go, are you?" Janet laughed, "We were two blocks from the dealership, Sara."

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Lindsey, who had been unusually quiet to that point, snickered. "Two blocks? Sara, you suck." Janet turned and regarded the girl. "You must be Lindsey." She nodded and then turned on the Willows charm.

"So you have, like, embarrassing pics of Sara? She was in a band? Was she any good, because if _Guitar Hero_ is any comparison, it's a good thing she kept her day job. Do you have any goofy pictures of Sara from the eighties? Like with the bad hair and stuff? Did you let her go to concerts? I mean like you totally let her go to like Woodstock and stuff, right? Did she have a curfew, because if Sara didn't have a curfew, I totally don't think I should have one. Because hello, Sara turned out fine without a dumb eight o'clock on school nights rule. You have a gun, so you're a cop too, or are you a CSI? My mother yaks for like ever about how hard it is to be a parent and in law enforcement. Did you give Sara big long lectures about duty and stuff? Would you have let Sara pierce her nose if she asked?"

As each rapid-fire teenage-eese question came out, Janet's grin grew bigger. Sara and Catherine each grew redder and Sofia just leaned against the wall and smirked, enjoying the entire scene.

Author's Note: Poor Linds, we all use her as such a tool. One of these days someone is going to give her an actual part in a story. Not just to: a - get her mother with Sara, b - get kidnapped/run away or c - be Catheirne's accesory to be picked up and tossed away at whim. This isn't that fic, but someday someone might write it...or perhaps they already have, dunno.

Points to me, I gave Sara some happy memories!

I do not own _Guitar Hero. _It's pretty safe to say that the game owns me at this point. It continues to mock me. We have it set up for demo play at the store I work at...and it has made a fool of me multiple times in front of my coworkers... I'll beat it, I will and they will all see it. Eeer, sorry, got a little sidetracked there, didn't I? Anyway, I don't own that addictive &#$ing game.

Unfortunatly, "Happy Time" is almost over. What? You didn't think I'd forget about Laura did you?


	16. Chapter XV: Years in the Making

_Chapter XV_

_Twenty-Two Years in the Making_

The apartment complex was nothing to sneeze at. It was middle class, and completely forgettable. Laura sneered, her nose up, at it anyway. Sara thought she was so much better then her mother. Well, it was time to remind Sara of her roots.

Technology was a wonderful thing. All she'd had to do was hit a few keys and click a mouse a few times, and she'd had her daughter's address. Computer lessons had been all a part of her "rehabilitation"

Sara was on the fourth floor. Laura took the elevator, and sneered at its very presence. When she finally found Apartment 4-B, she started looking for the spare key. Under the mat, around the doorframe, there wasn't one. She cursed under her breath. Then she heard someone, "Hey Sara!" She looked up and the shouter did a double take. "Whoa, you're not Sara." She put on her best smile. "No, I'm Laura, Sara's mother. She told me she'd put a spare key out, but I can't find it." The man grinned, "Ah well, she probably got called in on some big case, she's always working. It's okay, though, I've got her spare. She gave it to me a while back so I could put her UPS in her apartment when she's not here to sign for it." She smiled at the young man, he was in his twenties and bleached blonde. She vaguely wondered if her daughter was sleeping with him. She knew that she would have been, if given the chance. He let her into Sara's apartment and then smiled, "Well, I gotta go, Ms. Sidle, or my pit boss will use my balls at the roulette wheel. Say hi to Sara for me."

He left and Laura was in Sara's empty apartment. It was clean, neat and done in passionate colors and chrome. The computer sitting off in some sort of makeshift office had a swirling screensaver on it. There was a stereo with plenty of CDs in the tower beside it, and books were everywhere. Sara was still a good-for-nothing hoity-toity know-it-all.

Laura wandered into the kitchen and looked inside the fridge. There were a few cartons of what were probably Chinese food and a covered bowel of salad. Soymilk, fancy coffee but no beer, and not even the makings for a ham sandwich. Laura scoffed and slammed the pristine white door hard enough to make magnets and whatever they'd been holding to fall off. She bent down and picked up a picture. Sara and a bunch of her cop friends, she guessed. She let it flutter back down to the floor and turned to the cabinets.

There was no stash of pot or coke or anything. She pushed around plates and boxes of crappy health food until her fingers brushed up against the smooth glass of a bottle. A wicked smile formed and she brought it out. Ah, it was a little dusty, almost forgotten. Sara's little sin, alcohol. So, she had a taste for it too, Laura had always known that there was something of her in her daughter. It was Tequila and it was mostly full. She twisted the cap off and took a sip; it burned all the way down like it should.

Laura smiled and took the bottle with her as she explored the rest of the apartment. The bathroom was small, but the tub was full of exotic smelling shampoos and shit, unlit candles lining the walls. Sara had a nice bathroom; she had never had to worry about a bull-dyke shiving her when she was washing her hair. Laura left the bathroom, alcohol dribbled out of the bottle, splashing down on the white floor as she went. The bedroom was Spartan: a bed, a chest of drawers, an alarm clock and some kind of police radio. The bed was a Queen, but from the looks of it, Sara had been the only one occupying it for quite some time. That was a shame.

She obviously hadn't taught the girl anything. She had her pick of the men at that lab and probably a hundred other cops she could screw, yet she wasn't…or maybe she just took it to their places. She let the tequila splash onto her bed, covering the deep purple comforter with strong smelling alcohol. Laura opened the closet and wrinkled her nose. Almost everything was black…and so bland. More alcohol coated the clothes. She made her way back to the front, draining the bottle onto the hallway carpet as she went. The couch in the living room got a good soaking and she threw the bottle down in the middle of the floor.

She stood at the door again and looked over Sara's perfect little apartment. She curled her lip and reached into her pocket for a cigarette. She lit it with her cheap Bic lighter and inhaled the smoke. It was good, even though they were cheap; the little thrill of nicotine went through her. Laura Sidle blew the smoke out and flicked the cigarette back into the apartment, it landed on the couch. The hot cherry of the smoldering cigarette landed on the black leather and an instant later, fire met the alcohol. The sudden whoosh of flame was almost musical, in its own way.

The world could keep its Blues, Jazz and Rock and Roll; Laura Sidle had always marched to the violent beat of her own drummer. From the doorway, she watched as yellow, orange and red began to eat away at Sara's perfect apartment. It turned pristine white to black as it moved from the couch, across the carpeted floor and to the walls. Books began to turn to ash and the computer screen cracked in the glorious heat of the fire. Laura smiled as she closed the door. Sara owed her and this little slice of revenge had been twenty-two years in the making.

Author's Note: Yeah, my life is still crazy right now. Updates are spotty and I hate that. My muses are out of whack and everything I try to write turns very angsty and sad. _Grief _(a bunch of drabbles I strung together into a sort-of-story-ish) started out as a fluff. Yeah, like I said, I'm a bit out of sorts at the moment.


	17. Chapter XVI: Case Files

_Chapter XVI_

_Case Files_

She seemed so relaxed, so…not Sara that it was almost surreal. She smiled, she laughed, she talked about her past. She was not Sara Sidle, CSI; she was just Sara. Sofia liked this 'Just Sara'. She also found that she liked Captain Burgundy, Janet. They bounced from topic to topic, chatting and laughing. Sara bore the brunt of the conversation; there were several jokes on her behalf, and many stories of the embarrassing type.

They were discussing what toppings to get on an impromptu pizza when Sofia's phone rang. She scowled at the offensive piece of machinery. Her shift didn't start for another hour or two. She shot an apologetic look at the rest and flipped the phone open, "Curtis." It was Vega on the other side, "Yo, Curtis, you got a guy here raising seven kinds of Hell. Demanding to see his son." Sofia pushed back her blonde hair with one hand. "This ranting guy have a name?" There was a moment of silence and the subtle sound of shuffling papers, "Yeah, says his name is Doyle Jacobs. You think he's connected to that double you're working?" For a detective, sometimes Vega could be really thick. "Probably, I'll be right there." She closed the phone, the slight click of plastic meeting plastic echoed through the silent room, all eyes were on her. She sighed, she didn't want to be the one to break up the love-fest…or put the walls back up in Sara's eyes. "That was Vega. We've got a lead on the Jacobs case." Just as she feared, she saw Sara go stiff, "The father." Sofia nodded. Catherine stood, "Well, looks like that pizza will have to wait."

They went outside, to the cars. Catherine waved the rest of them ahead, she had to drop off Lindsey. So, it was Sara, Sofia and Janet in Sofia's city-issued Sedan. Janet cleared her throat and slid on her sunglasses, "Tell me about the case." Sara began going through the Jacobs case as Sofia navigated the early-evening traffic. Gone were the mother and daughter of before, now it was CSI and Police Captain.

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There was no incredible resemblance between the boy they'd found at the scene of his own mother's murder and the man who sat in the interrogation room behind the viewing window. Catherine wasn't there yet, and she'd be pissed that they'd started without her, but he was ready to talk, they both knew it. Janet stayed in the Observation Room. "This isn't my house, you two go on."

They entered the room, they both took a seat across from him and Sara placed the files on the table between them.

He looked from one face to the other. "Where is Sinclair? IS he okay? They wouldn't tell me anything. I am his father. His father, damn it!" His hand went to the inside of his jacket and Sofia tensed, but all he brought out was a worn photograph, "This is the only picture I have of him, he was four. Just before Lorelei took off with him. I went on a business trip to Boston and when I got back…they were gone. I wouldn't have minded if it was just Lorelei, but she took my son. My son." He looked at each of them. "The Police couldn't do anything. They said that it wasn't a crime. She took my son and it wasn't a crime. Now I hear he's here and she's dead and no one will let me see him!"

Sofia frowned, "Where were you two nights ago, sir?" He blinked, "At home, in Atlanta." She nodded, "Can you confirm that?" He scoffed, "You think I killed Lorelei? No. No, I was at home, I left work at nine and spent the next ten hours or so drinking like a fish and staring at the TV. Listen, Detectives, the highlight of my week is when The Braves play. I just want to take my son and go home. I'll do anything you want. Tests, DNA, whatever. I just want to take my son and go home."

Sara nodded solemnly. "Mr. Jacobs, Doyle. Your son is fine, in protective custody right now…but... there is a possibility, a strong one, that he may have killed your estranged wife and the other man found in her home." He went stock-still for a moment and his ragged face went pale. "Jesus Christ." He ran his hands through his hair. "Oh Jesus."

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They left him to fill out forms. They had taken a DNA sample and Wendy was running it through as priority. Janet watched them, Sara going over the files with the Detective. She could see the subtle, bitter pain in Sara's eyes and wanted to hold her close until it was gone. Now, though, was not the time or the place. Sara had a job to do, just like everyone else did. That didn't stop the memories, though.

_San Francisco, California_

_1989_

_She had scrubbed at her skin, but she could still feel the filth on her. Twenty dead teens, they'd been little more then girls. The bastards had herded the girls into a shipping container and then they'd open fire with a fucking machine gun. None of them had even been able to speak English. They'd been kidnapped from China and sold like meat to the brothels that plagued the City. It had been her fault. If she hadn't pushed so hard…they might all still be alive. She and Harv had been working the case for weeks. They'd both been short tempered and snappy and they'd pushed too hard. The wrong people had caught wind of the investigation and they'd cut their losses._

_Losses, business assets - that were all those girls had been to them. She had unlocked the bolt on that container and wrenched open the door. She'd found those girls. They'd been riddled with bullets; there had been so much blood. Blood everywhere. _

_She pulled on her robe and went out to sit on the couch. Tears poured down her cheeks and she didn't move to wipe them. Sometimes she hated her job so much. This was one of the cases that made her question why it was she did what she did. She could have done anything with her life. Why did she muck around in the underbelly of the City, fighting a never ending battle that she could not win?_

"_Janet?" She looked up and blotted at her tear-stained face. Standing there, a silhouette against the light of her bedroom was Sara. "What's wrong?" _

_She sniffed back another round of sobs. "Nothing, nothing. Just a bad day at work." Sara crossed the small room over to her. "Want to talk about it?" She shook her head. Sara frowned and sat down beside her. The young woman put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug, and Janet broke down and began to cry. Sara held onto her._

That was why Janet did what she did. She did it for the Sara Sidles of the world.

Janet was startled out of her thoughts by a wild half-scream, "SARA!" Someone, she had no idea who, plowed by her and grabbed Sara in a tight bear-hug. "Oh God, I was so worried! You're okay, you're all right!"

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Sara suddenly found herself in a crushing hug. She pushed the offending body off. "I missed you too, Nicky. What's going on?" She searched his face, the Texan was pale and he looked shaky. "Nick, what's going on?" He drew in a deep breath. "Your apartment, Sar, someone torched your apartment…we thought…" He shook his head and hugged her again. "We were called in to work an Arson and when we saw the address… Oh God, we thought that you might have…"

Now it was Sara's turn to be pale. "My apartment."


	18. Chapter XVII: Interogation

_Chapter XVII _

_Interrogation_

She watched as they waded through the charred remains of her life. The fire had started in the living room and had quickly spread. The accelerant had been alcohol based. Her apartment was lost, as was most of the fourth floor. The rest of the building had heavy smoke and water damage; no one had come out unscathed. One hadn't made it out at all. Russell Yalsing, thirty-year-old father of two, and resident of Apartment 4A had died trying to escape the flames.

Greg was trying to lift prints from the outside of the door, which had remained mostly intact. The doorknob was their biggest help. Sara knew, in her very soul, whose they would find there. They would find Laura's. This was her work; she knew it like she knew her own name.

_Tamales Bay, California_

_1976_

_They watched as the Conner's Family Bed and Breakfast burnt. The orange was like a vivid flag against the dark night sky. Laura smirked at it. "See that Sara. You can draw all the pretty pictures you want. That's how the real world works though. That's how it goes in business. You cut the competitors out before they even have a chance to screw you." The gas can at Laura's feet was empty and the bottle of Rum in her hands was full. "Come on, let's get inside." She patted Sara's head in a gesture that could have almost been mistaken as one of love. Sara followed her, but cast one last glance over at the fire. From here, almost a quarter of a mile away, it looked almost pretty. She knew better. Her Mom had shown her how painful fire could be. Fire was bad. The Conners had a baby and a puppy…she hoped the bad fire didn't burn them._

Janet placed her arm around her shoulders, "Come on, Sara, you don't need to be here."

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They found Laura Sidle at a bar two blocks from Sara's destroyed apartment. Two hours after that, they matched her fingerprints to those Greg had recovered from the door. Thirty minutes later, Joel Frohike, a Black Jack Dealer and Sara's neighbor, gave his statement. He'd let Laura in. The young man was devastated.

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Jim Brass stood outside the interrogation room, looking in at the woman who sat at the table. The resemblance she had to Sara Sidle, her daughter, was uncanny. There was something in her face, though; a cruel-hearted pride that he'd never seen on Sara's. This woman was not only guilty of the crime, she was proud of the fact.

Another woman, Captain Janet Burgundy of the SFPD, stood with him, ready to enter the room. "Let me go in there with you, Laura and I know each other." He nodded. The redhead was worked up, her gray eyes were stormy and her fists were balled up so tightly that the knuckles were white. It went against every regulation in the book, but he opened the interrogation room door for her and let her go in first.

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Laura looked up when the door opened. She'd been hoping to see Sara. To her great disappointment there was only a fat cop and some redhead. "Well, I'm going to ruin your day. I-Want-A-Lawyer." Laura had been running from and dealing with the cops her entire life; she could size them up well enough.

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Catherine, Sofia and Sara all stood in the observation room. Sara was pale, and a little shaky, and for that both women would have happily throttled Laura Sidle. They watched silently, not knowing what to do, but wanting to be there just in case something needed to be done.

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Jim Brass jumped right in. "We found your finger prints on the front door of Sara Sidle's apartment. The one that you burnt down." Laura lifted an eyebrow. "I said I wanted a Lawyer, I won't answer anything without a lawyer present." Brass nodded, "I know, and I'm not asking any questions. I'm just telling a little story." He opened one of the files in front of him. "You've got a rap sheet longer than my arm here, Ms. Sidle. Possession with intent to sell, armed robbery, assault with a deadly weapon, and that's just before you were twenty." Laura crossed her arms over her chest and Brass continued. "What really gets me, though… what really punches my buttons are the child abuse charges." He opened another file. "Burns, broken bones, malnutrition, and that's just your son, Sean Sidle." He folded his hands and glared at her. "Now, your daughter…" She cut him off. "Yes, Sara, are you fucking my daughter?"

Jim Brass hit his feet. "WHAT KIND OF A SICK…"

He was cut off by a hand on his forearm, "Same old Laura. Same lines, same song and dance. Your petty attempts aren't going to help you. They didn't then and they won't now. You're looking at Murder, Laura, again. There was a man in that building you torched and he died. There won't be any sympathy to keep you off of death row this time."

Laura smiled; she actually smiled. "I knew you looked familiar. You're that cop-bitch who wanted me to sign all those papers. Red, Brown, one of those color names…

_California Women's Correctional Facility_

_March 1988_

"_Detective Burgundy, Janet Burgundy. I'm here to talk to you about your daughter, Sara." Pictures didn't do Laura Sidle justice. She looked like an older Sara, the close resemblance of a murderess and the girl she thought of as her daughter was chilling. She sat down across from Laura and they stared at each other, gauging the other for weaknesses and intent. _

_Clad in a vibrant, almost blinding orange jumpsuit, Laura scoffed. "Is she dead?" Janet shook her head, "No. No, she's fine. Would you like to see a picture?" Laura snorted a laugh, "I remember what the brat looks like. Since she isn't dead, what's this about? You're taking up my valuable time. I could be staring at one of three walls or even a cement and razor wire fence right about now." _

_Janet scowled. "I'm Sara's foster mother, and if you didn't realize it, she'll be turning eighteen soon." Laura shrugged, "So she won't be your problem anymore, still doesn't answer my question. Why are you here, bothering me?" Janet pulled a small stack of papers from her briefcase and slid them across the table. Laura was shacked and handcuffed, but there was enough give in to her restraints for her to grab them with her bony and shaky hands. "Adoption? I don't follow."_

_Janet shook her head, "No, you wouldn't, would you? Sara's turning eighteen soon and I want to adopt her before then. I want to adopt your daughter and the only thing that's stopping me is you." She slid a ballpoint pen across the table. "Please, let me take her. Let me give her a family. You're her mother; surely you want her to have a good life."_

_Laura took the pen and twirled it between her fingers. "Yes, I'm her mother. I gave birth to the girl and raised her. Taught her right from wrong and all that good shit. I'm her mother. You aren't." She fixed Janet with a cold gaze. "Which brings me to a question. Why would a grown woman, a cop, want to adopt a girl who's near grown? What's in it for you, Detective?" _

_Janet felt the fiery licks of her temper kick up. "I love Sara, that's enough for me." _

_Laura smirked. "So that's it, huh? Oh, no, trust me I understand. Sara is a good looking girl." She held up her hands, "Now far-be-it-from me to judge, I've found considerable comfort in the arms of the fairer sex the last few years…but aren't you a little old for my daughter? Unless you're into that creepy pedophile shit. Is that it, Detective? Does my daughter turn you on? Do you fuck her every night and send her off to school every morning?_

_Janet hit her feet and the only thing that kept her from striking the woman in front of her was the guard that they'd placed there. He caught her fist as she'd pulled it back to punch. "That's enough!" He banged on the wall, "JERRY, GET SIDLE OUTTA HERE! TAKE HER TO A FUCKING SOLITARY!" _

_They dragged Laura out of the small room. She smiled at Janet on the way out. "I'll fucking die before I sign those papers, bitch. Sara is a Sidle, she's mine."_

"It's been a few years, Laura, but you haven't changed. You're still hurting Sara, even now." The woman grinned, "Sara is a big girl and she doesn't need you to protect her." She smiled, "That still pisses you off, doesn't it? That I wouldn't sign those papers. I asked one of the girls in the Law Library about it, you know. You wanted me to sign away my Parental Rights. You wanted to adopt her, and slap 'Burgundy' after Sara's name. She'd be your little achievement. Your shining star on the lists of do-goods."

Through gritted teeth, Janet spoke, "She's not 'my achievement' she's her own person, her own savior. With or without my name she is my daughter and she is a better person than you could ever dream of being. I'm not going to let you hurt her anymore, Laura. I'll get you put in the deepest darkest hole in prison and you'll never ever get out this time." Laura chuckled, "Oh yes, yes, sure. I'm not as dumb as I used to be, Burgundy. Twenty-two years on the inside has given me an edge. I'll beat this shit, no problem. You've got nothing. A fingerprint. A mother's fingerprint on her daughter's apartment door." She put on what was probably supposed to be an innocent face. "I was just trying to reconnect with my daughter. My Sara. After all these years I thought we could be mother and daughter again…and she…" She smiled, "I'll have that jury eating out of the palm of my hand."

Brass shook his head; "We've got an eyewitness that places you at the scene at the time of the fire." Laura shrugged, and quickly switched tactics.

"Is Sara watching? I bet she is. Behind that mirror, right there." She shifted her gaze and stared at the mirror that Sara, Sofia and Catherine were, indeed, behind. "I bet she's been listening to this whole thing. I bet she's crying like a baby and holding on tight to someone. That Texan or maybe the Black-Boy, or maybe one of those dykes." Laura smirked again. "How does it feel, Sara? To know that it's your fault. It's your fault that man died in the fire, just like it's your fault Tommy is dead. The worst part is, though, it's all in you. You came from me, Sara. How long will it be 'till you hurt one of your friends? How long will it be before you take that gun and kill someone?"

The next poisonous statement was cut off. It was stopped by Janet Burgundy's fist slamming into Laura Sidle's face. "You bitch!" Brass was trying to pull her back, but she lashed out, and kicked Laura in the ribs.

Laura looked up from the floor and wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. "Police brutality! That was police brutality." Jim Brass, one hand firmly pushing Janet out the door, turned to look at her. "All I saw was a mother, protecting her daughter. Besides, this is Nevada. A California badge isn't worth the tin if it's not stamped on here." He closed the door, and hit the button under the edge of the table, cutting off sound to the Observation Room. He bent down and spoke to Laura.

The others couldn't tell what he'd said, but they saw Laura's reaction to it. The woman was pale and for the first time since they arrested her, she looked truly scared.

Author's Note(s):

No animals were harmed in the making of 'Skeletons' The Conners' puppy grew up big and strong and had many puppies of her own, the family that adopted her after the tragedy named her Dee.

Let's get a big group 'Aaaw' for Janet, and then a victory-dance, because she finally got to knock Laura around.

What did Brass say? Wouldn't you like to know.


	19. Chapter XVIII: Family

Author's Note: This chapter is only partially beta-read, about 60/40, I suppose. So all mistakes, and I'm sure there are quite a few, are mine and mine alone.

_Chapter XVIII_

Family 

Sara stood in the Observation Room. She was stiff and chilled. She was confused and scared. Underneath it all, though, she was touched. Not by her mother. Her words were nothing that hadn't run through her head a million times already. No, it was Janet's words that had touched her. She'd never known. She'd never known that Janet had wanted to adopt her, or had thought of her as her daughter. It was a humbling notion. One that left her in awe. She looked at them, Janet standing over Laura. Her Mom standing over her Mother, protecting her. God!

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Beside her, Catharine and Sofia were seething. They'd both been about to storm into the Interrogation Room themselves when Janet had attacked.

Sofia could hear the blood roaring through her. All she could think of were curses, dark and viscous curses. That woman, that bitch had deliberately slapped at Sara, trying to hurt her. She wished she'd been in there. She envied Janet.

Catherine wanted to throttle Laura and she wanted to hug Janet. She looked to Sara. Sara was standing there, watching the scene before them. "Sara, you okay?"

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She got no answer, because Janet came through the door. She slammed it behind her. Her fury vanished, though, when she saw Sara. "Sara, honey, are you okay?"

Sara blinked, "I'm okay. I'm all right. Are you okay?" Janet grinned, "Well my knuckles are sore, but I've had worse." She looked back at the glass; the terrified face of Laura Sidle burned itself into her memory. "C'mon, let's go get some coffee." Sara didn't move, though. "You wanted to adopt me?" Janet smiled a sad smile. "I did, I still do. You're a genius, kid, but you never got it. Family isn't all about blood and heredity." She tapped the inside of Sara's wrist, "It's not all in here." She reached up and touched Sara's chest, just above her heart. "Its here, kid, family is what you make of it. You've got me, and you've got Harv. He loves you like another daughter, whether he'll admit it or not, and it seems to me that you've got plenty of people to look out for you here in Vegas." She threw her arm around Sara's shoulder. "Now, coffee, please." Behind them, Catherine chuckled, "Now we knew where Sara gets it."

Sara grinned, "Yea, well, we'll get some coffee, Greg's really good stuff. C'mon, I'll show you the break room…Mom."

Janet's smile lit up the room.

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Catherine wanted to know what he had said to her. She had seen the blood drain out of Laura's face, she'd seen those hands shake. The woman's hands were veiny and thin, they showed signs of wear. They shook from too many years of drugs and alcohol and were yellow from chain smoking. Those hands, withered and bony, were the same hands that had terrorized Sara. She hated her for that. She hated the fact that even now Sara flinched every time Laura moved too fast. She hated Laura Sidle with more venom and more passion then she'd ever thought was possible. Even Candeece the singer, the bitch who'd probably shot Eddie and left Lindsey to drown, had not earned this much hate. It was her eyes that inspired the most hate. They were her daughter's eyes, the same color and shape, but she'd never seen the same look in Sara's warm chocolate browns. Laura Sidle was cruel, mean and generally about on the same level as a sociopath morally speaking, that could all be pushed aside, but. It was that look that chilled Catherine. Laura Sidle was smart, terribly smart. She knew how to hurt people and she enjoyed it. To Laura, Sara was just a tool. She was a tool to use and abuse, a means to an end. Why had she come to Vegas? Had she come only to torture Sara?

Brass had mentioned that Sara had a brother. That was funny, because Sara had never mentioned a brother before, though Catherine couldn't really blame her. Why hadn't Laura gone to him? Why hadn't she looked up this Sean Sidle and hurt him? Why had she come to Sara?

Sara had seen her kill her husband. Sara had testified at the trail. Catherine could remember the first time she'd testified in court. She'd been a bundle of nerves, and it had only been a trick-roll case in night-court and she'd been far older then thirteen.

How had Sara done it?

"Hey." Catherine jerked her head up. Jim was leaning against the wall. He looked spent and exhausted. She smiled at him. "Hey yourself." The detective loosened his tie and breathed a heavy sigh. "Some night." Catherine nodded. Brass ran his hand over his head and thinning hair in an absent-minded manner. "Sophie's gone to oversee _her_ booking and lock up." Catherine nodded, "Yeah, she grumbled something about bitches and hand cuffs."

They stood there, quiet for a minute. Then, Catherine broke. "What kind of parent does that to her child, Jim?" He shook his head. "I'm no expert on parenting, Catherine." He sighed again, a weary bone deep sigh, "But I think Sara's Mom is a feisty police Capitan with a wicked right hook." He rubbed at his chin where he was beginning to show a five o'clock shadow. "I've seen a lot of bad stuff, we all have." He sighed, "I had to look through Sara's files, her juvenile files, Catherine." He closed his eyes. "She had more broken bones before she was eight then I've had in my entire life. I look at her and she's still Sara. She's still too stubborn for her own damn good and smart as hell." He stopped for a moment and a small grin came across his face, "Though I think I'm starting to see where she gets that from. No matter what that bitch did to her, she's still my Sara and I'd do anything to protect her. Especially from Laura." His last word was uttered like an oath.

Catherine nodded, "What did you say in there, Jim?" A dark and caustic look came across the Capitan's care-worn face. It was not a look that she associated with him. "I made it clear, in no uncertain terms that if she even dared think about Sara ever again…" His fists clenched once more and the look on his face became darker and even more violent, "I won't go into details, Catherine, some things aren't fit for a _lady_ to hear, but she knows. She knows what will happen and she fears it. She'll stay away from my girl, if only to save her stinking skin from a long, drawn out and painful end."

Two things scared Catherine. What Jim said, and the fact that she not only agreed with it, but the fact that she wished that she had been the one to deliver the ultimatum.

Then, as quickly as the dark mood had fallen, it dissipated. "We should go," Catherine tilted her head in invitation and expectation, "We are probably missing some great embarrassing Sara stories right about now." Brass nodded.


	20. Chapter XIX: The Begining of Closure

Author's Note: Again, this chapter is only about 60 percent beta-read so all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

_Chapter XIX_

_Where Closure Starts _

Sara and Sofia watched through the glass as Sinclair and Doyle Jacobs were reunited after over five years of being apart, father and son. The boy wouldn't hug him. Sara sighed; the boy was traumatized and probably wouldn't let any man touch her for a long, long time.

They sat there, talking. Doyle smiled at the boy. "I brought this. You were probably too young to remember it, but it used to be your favorite toy." He put a small teddy bear in an Atlanta Braves jersey on the table between them. The young boy took it and stared at it. Then he spoke, "I remember him. His name is…is..Smo…Smo…" Doyle smiled, "Smoltz, we named him after John Smoltz, the pitcher. It's from your first game I took you to Turner Field. You, your Grampa and me. We all went to watch them play the Yankees." A tear slid down the man's face. "Two days later your mom took off." The boy stared at the bear. "You bought me a hot dog and always called me 'Slugger'." Doyle nodded, "That's right. You were always Slugger to me." The boy looked up. "That's what they used to call me. When they…when they touched me. Slugger, Sport, Big Guy. The lady said they wouldn't hurt me anymore." Doyle's face crumpled. "I am so sorry, Sinclair, so so sorry. I looked for you. I looked everywhere. I just couldn't find you."

The young boy didn't answer; his eyes were fixed on the wall. "Mommy kept a gun in the drawer. I took it and when he came close to me, I shot him. I didn't want him to hurt me again, so I shot him. Then she came at me, screaming…so I shot her too. I didn't mean to kill them…I just didn't want him to hurt me anymore."

Doyle choked out an "Oh God" and he went around the table and grabbed the boy. Sinclair was stiff at first, but when the older man started crying, he put his arms around him, awkwardly. "You listen to me, Sinclair. Those bastards will never touch you again. I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I won't let them hurt you any more. I'm sorry."

0000000

Sara turned her back on the scene. Doyle Jacob's mantra of "I'm sorry" and his son's sobs were too much to handle.

Suddenly, two arms pulled her back against the solid warmth of another body and Sofia's throaty alto sounded in her ear. "It's okay, Sara."

Sara shook her head. "No, it's not okay. I was almost him. I came damn close to being that little boy." Sofia pulled her around so she could see her face. "No, Sara. You didn't kill your father or Laura." A solitary tear slid down Sara's cheek, cutting a wet and shiny path down to her chin. "But I wanted to, Sofia. I wanted to. Janet doesn't know, she just doesn't know how close I came." She sighed. "One day, I was cleaning one of the guest rooms, our house doubled as a B&B…I was cleaning one of the rooms and I found a gun. I was all of twelve years old and I took it. It was a Saturday Night Special, probably hot. I slept with it under my pillow. I was afraid, afraid that he would do like he always threatened to…that he'd sell me to the perverts or touch me himself. I told myself one of us would die before that happened. I didn't kill him or her." She rested her head against Sofia's shoulder, "But I wanted to. I wanted to so badly."

Sofia could feel Sara's bitter tears wetting her shirt. She stroked your hair. "Listen to me, Sara Sidle. You didn't kill anyone. You're a good person. Your Mom is a police Capitan and if I'm not mistaken, you've got another Capitan auditioning for the role of Dad." A smile spread across Sofia's face, breaking up the grief, "In more ways then one." Sara looked up. "Jim and Janet?" Sofia grinned, "I think he's smitten. I heard him mumbling about never seeing a woman throw such a good punch before." She could feel Sara smile against her shoulder. "That is so wrong on so many levels." She straitened up and stood beside Sofia as they began to walk out of the room. Sofia grinned, "What is there a Mister Janet Burgundy floating about somewhere?" Sara laughed, "Not a chance, and they'd probably be good together…it's still wrong though." Sofia threw her arm around Sara's shoulders. "Welcome to my world. The world of having nightmares about Jim Brass boffing your Mom." Sara's shriek of disgust quickly turned to laughter, and Sofia joined in.

For that moment, with the two of them laughing together without another care in the world, life was perfect.

0000000

The cell was much like the one she'd spent years in. Concrete blocks and steel bars. She could hear prison sounds all around her. The breathing of those who were attempting to sleep, the pitiful cries of those who were hip-deep in withdrawal from whatever they'd been taking and the soft groans of someone trading human contact for cigarettes. The bunk she laid on was hard and too short for her long frame.

Bastards, all of them. Fucking cops, fucking CSIs, fucking Sara. She massaged the livid bruises around her wrists, the ones that the cuffs had left. She'd had rougher treatment over the years, but damn these Pigs were protective of Sara. She remembered what the Capitan, his name had been Brass, had told her. A chill passed through her and she clamped down on the trickle of fear that wormed it's way down her spine. Fuck him and the horse he'd ridden in on, he couldn't do that. Here, in the quiet of her cell, she could put on a sneer at the memory. Not that it made much difference to her. Why would she go back at Sara anyway? She had a piss-ass government job, she lived on a pittance. No, there was nothing for Sara to give her.

The more Laura thought about it, the more disgusted and slightly deluded she became. She didn't want or need her sniveling bitch of a daughter around her. The fire had just been a message. They wouldn't pin that guy dying on her. She was done with this shit. She was done. Sara could have her shitty little life with her cops friends and snooty lies.

Somewhere down the line, she heard a loud grunt and a hiss of pain. She was safe, though. She could survive, no matter what that punk cop had said. Pigs didn't have connections on the inside…not like he'd made out.

She could hear the footsteps coming her way, screws doing their rounds and she closed her eyes to feign sleep. There was a pause at her cell. "That's Sidle. Yeah, Curtis said to give her special treatment." There was a huff, "Since when do we listen to Curtis?" The first voice answered, "Since every detective and half the unis at the PD are with her, including Brass. Especially Brass. This bitch came after the wrong chick." She heard the subtle sounds of knuckles popping and a key being pushed into the lock of her cell. Laura clutched her arms around her and swallowed the bitter bile that rose up in her throat.

Author's Note: Alls well that ends well...or something like that. I'd like to say one more time, that I really disliked writing Laura Sidle. In defence of Sofia and Brass, they only said 'Special' whatever the guards may or may not have inferred from that statement was completly out of their hands. That's their story and they're sticking to it. On a lighter note: Jim and Janet, I couldn't help myself.


	21. Epilogue

_Epilogue _

Sofia stared out into the darkness that was the desert by night. It was foolish to run by oneself at night, but she did it anyway. Her mind was full and she needed to clear it out. Running was the only way to get that done. Her feet hit the ground in a steady rhythm and she thought over the events of the last few days. Laura Sidle, Sara Sidle, Janet Burgundy, the names and faces raced through her mind as steadily as her feet moved.

She had never truly realized just how strong Sara was. She felt weak in comparison. She had heard Sara's dark admission and she was humbled and ashamed. Sara was much stronger then she could ever be. If it had been her, Tom Sidle would have been dead long before his wife had stabbed him.

Her thoughts turned to Sara's Mom, Janet. There was another strong woman. One who was sharp and very protective of Sara.

_A Few Hours Before_

_She hugged Sara one last time and leaned against her car. "Now, get on out of here, girl. You've got a case to wrap up." Sara grinned and waved before she and Catherine returned to the Lab. Sofia was about to leave when Janet stopped her. _

"_Detective." Sofia had turned, "Yes?" Janet looked her up and down. "My Sara is a near genius. She can do Calculus in her head. she speaks three languages fluently, and actually understands most of what they say on Stargate." Janet smiled, "But when it comes to matters of the heart, she's a little slow on the uptake."_

_Sofia nodded, though she had no idea where this was going. "She's got a lot of good friends here, Catherine, Greg and the rest. I've heard a lot about that Grissom fellow and would have liked to meet him." Sofia couldn't help but grimace at the mention of Gilbert Grissom in conjunction with Sara. There were red-hot rumors there, rumors that she preferred to ignore, for the most part. _

"_With all those folks around her, I expect she'd got a lot of protection." Sofia nodded, but now she did know where this was going, she could see it in the woman's eyes. "So I expect I'll hear about any heart ache Sara comes across. As you've seen I don't take kindly to people playing with my daughter's heart. I think you'll do good to keep that in mind. Got me?" _

_Sofia nodded, slightly dazed._

_Then Janet smiled, "Well, I've got to get going. God knows my Squad will fall to pieces and start bickering like small children over a toy without me there to keep them on-task." She smiled, "It was nice to finally meet the Sofia Curtis I've heard so much about." _

_With that parting shot, Janet Burgundy started her car and left Sofia standing there_.

It was different, Sofia mused, being on the receiving end of the 'My Mother Is A Cop' speech.

She began to slow down as she hit the five-mile mark of her run. She intended to take Janet's words to heart. She would protect Sara, whether the woman wanted it or not.

She came to a jerky halt and bent over double to catch her breath. The sweat fell into her eyes and stung. She would protect Sara; not that Sara couldn't take care of herself. The woman was the very definition of independent. No, she wanted to be there for Sara. She didn't want Sara to have only herself to rely on anymore. She wanted to be there for the other woman. She wanted to protect her. She would protect her from here on out. She'd protect her with everything that she was.

Fin

Author's Note: I've been asked if there is going to be a third instalment in this series. My answer is: possibly. I've got an idea, but it's yet to fully take form. If you'd like a sneak peek, though, take a look at _Angels of Vegas _(The Warrick and Sara casino bar scene to be precise) While this could be shameless self-pimpage, it's not intended to be. The third (and final) story in this line, if I write it, is taken from an unused side story from that series.

Some thanks to go out: To everyone who reviewed, I love you like the friends I've never met. Your little lines of praise and encouragment (and occasional outbursts -you know who you are-) bring a smile to my face and continue to inspire me.

As always, credit must be given to my lovley beta reader, HoneyLynx86 for mucking through the roughness and listening to my crazy rants.

Finally, to all: Thanks for Reading.


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